The day looked promising, with blue skies and sunshine visible out of the bedroom window. By the time we arrived at the start point of Ticehurst, a little cloud had come over; however, conditions were still a lot finer than most days recently. This route was chosen after looking at a map of where we had and hadn’t walked and noticing a large gap which remained unexplored between Ticehurst and Etchingham. So that is what we would be doing, filling in the gap. We set off at about twenty past ten, and whilst there was still blue sky to see, whenever the sun hid behind the clouds, the whipping wind turned the day suddenly chilly. However, whenever the sun was out, its warmth could be immediately felt; this was more or less the pattern for the whole day.
Heading out of the village past the church and some lovely old cottages, we met our first footpath out into the awaiting fields. It was understandably still muddy and a bit waterlogged in places, which made us both pleased with our new EXTREME boots. We then made our way up a long, quiet country lane, lined with early spring flowers and lots of lichen. There was also a small flock of sheep at the top, which marked the beginning of a stretch of farmland. We could hear the cattle mooing in the barn, and across the small valley, the tiny bleats of fresh lambs rang on the wind, with their tiny specs just about distinguishable amongst the flock on the hillside. We also met a chicken at the side of the road as we climbed up into Stonegate, which also had a large goose friend somewhere, who squawked loudly as we passed by the hedge of its garden. Once up the hill and through the small village, we saw the neat hedges of stretching farmland rolling away before us, with the sun glinting off the roofs of Burwash on the hilltop in the distance – it was a very High Weald-esque view.
This was also where the weirdness began. It started with some strange animal poo along the trail, alongside some deep hoof imprints in the earth, followed by some clear snuffle marks amongst the dirt shortly after. This hinted at the presence of the rare and elusive Wild Boar – in hindsight, it probably wasn’t, but it’s not impossible! Mere minutes later, we stumbled upon some large, abandoned machinery in the undergrowth, which opened up onto a field containing, amongst other things, a small, rusty old train. I carefully clambered up and down the ladder of the Tetanus Express, wondering what could possibly be coming next. The answer soon came, as we approached a farmyard. A large collection of further rusty things was presented to us, the highlights of which included an ex-military helicopter and a large steam train which, according to the plaque, has been used in several films, before its eventual East Sussex-based retirement. As we left this behind, we then heard what sounded like somebody playing the trumpet (badly) echoing from somewhere across the farmland. This attempt at music continued on and off as we made our way up and down the sweeping countryside, before suddenly developing into a choir of harmonious car horns, serenading us with a myriad of recognisable tunes on the wind.
The sun continued to come and go on the swift breeze as we walked through the next farmyard, this one significantly more recognisable as “normal” compared to the last. As we walked out the other side, past a spectacularly large old house hidden away by hedges, we spotted up on the hill ahead a herd of deer enjoying their afternoon, nibbling at grass and snoozing beneath the trees. We followed the track up in the same direction, soon finding ourselves walking alongside the same trees on our right. Peering beneath, we could see no sign of the deer and assumed they had silently moved on. Suddenly, a dark shape caught our eye running across the fields to our left, and we spotted half a dozen deer. They stopped in the middle, clearly staring at us as we stared back, darting backwards and forward, unsure what to do. Meanwhile, the rest of the herd appeared at the back of the trees behind us, one by one vaulting over the fence beyond and away from the intruders. The six in the field scampered around together, unsure what to do – we hope and expect that they eventually found their way back to their fellows.
We made our way along a Sheepstreet Lane for a stretch, past a lot of idyllic-looking cottages. From this vantage point, you could see out to the land around to Burwash to the right, and down and up to Ticehurst to our left. By now we were hungry and ready for lunch, but not wanting to stop at the side of the road (however great that road happened to be), we pressed on. We walked down a smaller side road lined with daffodils, a pair of falcons flying above, which eventually pittered out into a farm track. This was promising, and soon enough we came across a perfect little spot at the side of the path, where a gap in the bushes perfectly framed the view. As we settled down on our sit mats, the sun came out and poured over rising farmland before us, where a herd of cattle quietly grazed. The extra hunger was well worth the wait!
This turned out to be the last sun for the day. Just as Beth was finishing her crisps, the sun went in, and a cold breeze whipped through the gap in the hedge where we were. We therefore leapt quickly to our feet and continued on our way. We were close to the end now, and began to climb slowly back up toward Ticehurst. As the land rose under our boots, two large birds of prey swooped overhead. We turned to admire the view at our backs. From here, we could see a large flock of sheep away to our left, the herd of cattle ahead and away off to our right, what we could only assume was the same deer from earlier, finally reunited and settled back down together. We later noticed on its welcome sign that Ticehurst claims to be the “Heart of the High Weald”. With a view like this, it’s hard to argue. As the skies turned greyer and the wind whistled, Beth began to wilt a little. Fortunately, there was less than a mile to go, and one more sight still to come. We were approaching “Swallows Oast” – the site of our wedding. For the stretch of the walk, we had been walking through the view which had provided the backdrop for our perfect summer’s day. As we approached, a ray of sun came out and highlighted the hillside, as if it were saying hello. After this, it was just a short walk along the road back to the village centre. Before we left the footpath for the day, the walk gave us a parting gift. Hidden just off the trail amongst the trees, we came across a single, solitary bluebell; our first of the season!
The countryside between Ticehurst and Etchingham contained all the elements you would expect from an area claiming to be the heart of the High Weald – gentle hills, sprawling farms and patches of trees – so how could this route be anything but beautiful? And with the paths starting to dry and the sun teasing us with its presence, the day’s walk provided us with a tantalising taster of what is to come in the weeks and months ahead.
Matthew G. Huggins 